Mumbai? The bustling city. Or Kolkata? Would you be thinking of the slums of India, where children aren't fully dressed, malnourished and barefooted? Or the westernized Mumbai, where the youngsters are clad in jeans. Which ever part of India, you're thinking of.. my post will be a little about it for now. Might get a bit windy. Just because my thoughts are cluttered now.


When I went for this Aids Convention held at the Spring. That's what I experienced. Being taken on a ride by a narration played on an MP3 given to me as I entered. It was quite an experience. I was going on this girl's life journey in India. Her name's Jothi. She's a few years younger, 14 or was it 16.

Followed the instructions of the narrator. I didn't take photos of it, it was not allowed. Was asked to sit down at this bench.. Then, sounds from the city, sounds of people, flooded my ears. Was asked to imagine.. It's like I went right to another different world. The old India, the people. The sights and smells. All of that. Like I was there myself, totally "travel and adventure feeling". Heh.

Then, my journey began. I'm now walking through her life, the place she stayed, the things she went through. She lost her parents to HIV or sickness, couldn't really remember. She had to stay with her uncle and aunt who grudgingly took her and her little brother in. Her uncle and aunt will quarell over caring for them. Openly complain that she and her brother were burdens to them. At times, she'd cower underneath her thin blanket, shivering and scared. Her little brother who's weak would cry, fuelling the anger in her aunt and uncle. Her only joy was her grandmother. Slowly, after much family disputes and all, age and illness took its toil on her grandmother. Her sole source of love, just faded. She had to find work. Being 10 only, she would wake up early in the morning to work, collecting scraps of metal for miles on end, on an empty stomach. Big trucks on the road drive past, and the truckers would leer and sneer at little Jothi. She must have felt so alone. So afraid. She had no choice. Earning money albeit so meagre was vital. So she persevered. I admire her strength, really.

She got sick sometime soon. She worries day and night. Wondering if she might have what mother and father had. Having sleepless nights. I felt the anxiety she must have felt, wondering if she has HIV or not. Plucking up the courage, she went to the clinic. Overcame her fear of needles and took the test. I was then, asked to sit on the bench, divided by a curtain there. There were other people there too. then, the narrator asked me to get up to take the "results". Went up to the person behind the booth, heart actually beating a few beats too fast. And, this volunteer dressed up as a nurse, used a stamp and inked this negative sign on me. I actually felt relieved, Jothi was HIV-negative. Gosh. It was such a journey. Before I continued on to the next "room", the narrator asked me to turn around and look at the bench opposite the one I sat. It was filled with people who was in it too. Was told that those would be the ones with results that are positive. So was quite overwhelmed.

Went to the next room, the wall of hope. Where I was asked to write my hopes for those who have HIV. Left my note.. and pinned it on the bulletin. Went through another "room" where the walls had pictures of kids around the world who had HIV, being innocent and all. Touched. I took pictures of my inked "result" on my left hand and the band.. and a few brochures. But those pictures are lost.

Always knew about HIV and AIDS. Want so badly to do something about it. But what can I do besides showing equality and being accomodating to those who have it? I want to do more. Period. Want to make a difference. Not just talk, but for real. For now, I'm still thinking how to.

What will you do?